Muddy Muffins
by Ukaisha
Summary: Tweek likes it when Kenny talks dirty to him in his father's coffee house, and Kenny likes chocolate muffins. (Twenny, PWP)


Warning: This is smut. Porn. PWP. Lemon. Shitty shit that you don't need to be reading lalala goodbye.  
A/N: A short Twenny smut one-shot for one of my RP buddies, Jordon. I ought to do something for all of my RP buddies as a gift for being awesome, but I suppose Jordon was the lucky one today.

James you already got your present. Nearly 18,000 words of it. No more of that now.

Do feel free to leave a review if you found this pertinent to your interests, or a concrit if you were unsatisfied (although I cannot guarantee a full refund).

A fair warning: my characterization of Tweek is different than most. He's not a whining, sniveling uke, he's not bitchy, he's not helplessly nervous, and he's not fucking squealing "too much pressure" every three seconds. In fact you might say he's kind of demanding.  
Have fun with that.

Muddy Muffins  


At eight o'clock on the dot, Tweek Tweak flipped the sign hanging from the giant glass door so that the side declaring "I'm sorry- we're closed!" faced the barren parking lot. There hadn't been any customers for the past hour and a half, and Tweek hadn't seen anything larger than a five dollar bill in the past three.  
With nothing better to do, he'd let the only other barista go home early, (she'd had some party to get to or something) but his father's strict management style forbade him from closing until it was absolutely beyond certain that the customers no longer had any need of the place.  
The business is run by the people, and the people were the cells that created the living organism that was a coffee shop; that's what his father always said.

Tweek thought that people ought to make their own damn coffee once in a while, but that was neither here nor there.

In anticipation of an uneventful evening, Tweek had already done most of his after-closing chores. The restrooms had been cleaned spotless and the napkins and sugars had all been replenished and the floor had already been swept twice.  
Now, Tweek ran the broom through the busiest walkway one last time as the mop bucket filled with hot water in the back sink.  
Once these few tasks were done, all that was left was cleaning out the bread box, wiping everything down and then locking it all up. Then he could finally go home for the night.

After he set aside the broom and disposed of the little waste pile he'd accumulated, he returned to the overflowing mop bucket. He was slowly turning off the faucet at the industrial sized sink when he heard a little bell chiming in the front, signaling that someone had entered the coffee shop.  
His first instinct was to startle, (although, if he was honest, that was his first reaction for everything) but then he glanced at his watch, and then, unconcerned for who the patron might be, he began hoisting the mop bucket onto the floor.  
There would only be one person entering the coffee shop at this time of night, anyway, and sure enough, he could hear the squeaky footsteps come to a halt before the counter.

It was only a matter of time before he spoke, and sure enough, the mystery patron did not disappoint.

"Hey, Tweekers." The voice was quietly tired and contained, but Tweek had no trouble hearing it. He sighed, patiently, and thrust the mop head into the soapy bucket.  
"Kenny, I told you not to call me 'Tweekers.'"  
There was a slight pause, as if Kenny were possibly shrugging or nodding or making some other affirmative action Tweek could not see, and then he replied, "So you have."  
"You keep doing it."  
"Force of habit; you understand."  
Tweek just rolled his eyes and sighed, and he had the distinct impression that what Kenny hid as a cough was actually a laugh.

Tweek rung out the mop head, tightly twisting the sopping wet strands until they released most of the steaming water back into the bucket, and then he straightened up, and set to work.  
"Tweek." This time Kenny sounded whiny and muffled. "Come on man, I'm dying over here."  
"I'll be done mopping in a few minutes."  
"You can mop _after_," Kenny wheedled. "Please?"  
Tweek sighed and propped the mop up against the wall. "Fine."

Tweek returned to the front of the store. Kenny was sprawled over the counter top, helplessly, as though he couldn't even hold himself up on his own, but when Tweek came into view he perked up, propping himself up with his elbows and looking positively thrilled to see him. "Thanks a lot dude," he said gratefully.  
"I haven't even done anything yet."  
"Yeah, but..." Kenny's gaze drifted to the bread box still housing various baked goods, and right on queue, his stomach growled aggressively. "Man, I think my stomach already tried eating some of my other organs."

Tweek didn't answer. He slid apart the glass door to the display that housed the baked goods and, after fluffing open a brown paper bag, he began stuffing what remained inside into it. There were two blueberry muffins, one slab of marble pound cake, three raisin scones, two gingersnap cookies, and a decadent double chocolate muffin.  
Tweek had hardly touched the final item before Kenny tapped on the glass and then motioned towards himself, grinning and nodding like an anxious little kid.  
Tweek elbowed the glass door shut and handed off the chocolate muffin to the beggar, and his eyes lit up like Christmas had come early.  
"Thanks dude," he said, eagerly examining his prize.  
"Sure."

Tweek rolled up the top of the brown paper bag and flipped the switch to the bread box, which was refrigerated to keep the baked good fresh all day. He'd have to clean it out after mopping. "I can give you the rest of a half-gallon of milk I've got in the back too. It expires in two days and I'll be getting fresh milk tomorrow anyway."  
Kenny was only half listening; he was peeling away the paper liner, trying to leave as much of the muffin intact as possible, and he was already licking chocolate off of his knuckles.  
Tweek saw him brush away little bits of muffin and they sprinkled all over the counter, and he resisted the urge to scold or panic. They were just crumbs; it was nothing to work himself into a fit over. "Please don't get crumbs everywhere!" he said testily. "I just cleaned everything, okay?"  
"Oh, sorry." With good intentions, Kenny used his hand to swipe the chocolate crumbs off of the counter, and onto the floor that Tweek had now swept thrice.  
He choked back a little "ngh" of frustration and turned away from Kenny in stony silence, leaving him to his muffin and the brown paper bag.

The coffee shop put out fresh baked goods every day, most of which were made by Tweek's own mother, and they fetched a hefty profit from consumers with a sweet tooth in the morning.  
But Richard insisted on quality and quality meant fresh goods, and therefore anything that remained at the end of the day had to be thrown out. His wife had very nearly gotten down the exact amount of baked goods needed per day to a science, but there was still nearly always a few small things left over.  
Tweek had worked in the coffee shop nearly his whole life, but it was only at the start of this summer that his father had begun trusting him enough with the store to actually run it and then close it. He'd needed a job to occupy him during the summer break anyway, so he was happy to take on the family business for a little extra cash, even if only temporary.

His very first day, (Tweek refused to believe it was a coincidence; someone must have tipped him off) Kenny happened to stop in hoping to snag something to eat. Tweek had given a very firm refusal at first, but Kenny was reasonable; he only wanted what was left over, and only if it was about to be thrown away.  
Tweek had told him to come back at the end of the day, doubting that there would be anything and doubting that Kenny would even bother returning, but sure enough, there were a dozen and a half various baked goods just waiting to be thrown in the trash, and sure enough, Kenny came back for it.

It was no small secret that Kenny came from the poorest family in South Park, and it was this reason, among many others, that Tweek normally didn't associate with him. Bad blood, his father would say; bad blood ran in bad people and bad people were like bad apples, and just one bad apple would spoil the whole bushel, or some other rambling nonsense like that.

But if it came down to some old muffins and stale cookies that were about to be trash anyway making a difference in a friend's life, Tweek didn't see a problem with it.

He retrieved the mop and began trailing it along the floor in long, sweeping motions, occasionally returning to the mop bucket to submerge it and then twist it dry again. Kenny leaned over the counter top, quietly observing as he savored the chocolate muffin.

Tweek didn't like him sitting there watching. He kept nervously glancing up to check that he was still staring at him, and then quickly glancing down again, and every time he looked up he could have sworn Kenny's grin had grown wider.  
This pattern continued for some minutes, long enough for Tweek to finish the back area and move onto the main floor, before Kenny actually initiated some kind of conversation.

"It's a shame you're here by yourself," he said, very casually. "Did everyone else go home already?"  
"Yeah, kinda." Tweek kicked the welcome mat out of the way and mopped the path from the door to the counter, moving slow, not missing one square inch of floor. He said, "Annie left a while ago and Dad isn't coming in until tomorrow morning."  
"Do you want help?" Kenny asked.  
Tweek thought about the chocolate crumbs that were scattered underneath the counter and said, stiffly, "No thanks."  
Kenny shrugged and reached into the brown paper bag, digging around until he found the marble pound cake, and he began eating it with as much gusto as he had the chocolate muffin. In between mouthfuls of cake, he said, "I'll bet you've been bored all day."  
Tweek shrugged. He left the mop leaning against the counter and returned to the main floor, lifting the chairs onto the tables, placing them so that the seats laid flat on top of the table and the backs hung down towards the ground. "Dad wants the store to stay open this late, and Dad's in charge." He didn't sound particularly resentful about this; just bored. It was tedious to have to occupy a coffee shop that lost the majority of its consumer interest after 3 pm, but it was not exactly like Tweek had anything better to do, and he was getting paid well for his boredom.

Kenny left his doggy bag sitting on the counter. Wordlessly, he began imitating Tweek, stacking the chairs on top of the tables.  
"I said I don't need any help," Tweek said, slightly peeved.  
"You said you don't want help," Kenny clarified. "You don't always get what you want, you know."  
Tweek conceded the point; anyway, the main floor was nearly completely put up already, it wasn't like arguing would change anything.  
Finally, there was only one table remaining, and they both met at it face to face.

For the first time in several minutes, Tweek actually stopped and saw Kenny's face, and he couldn't stop a smile from breaking through.  
Kenny saw him suddenly smile and he grinned back, albeit a little confused. "What's so funny?" he asked.  
"Your face," Tweek chuckled. The double chocolate muffin had left its mark all over Kenny's face; everywhere around his mouth was covered in chocolate. It was like seeing the aftermath of a child that had just dived face-first into mud, and it was adorable.  
Kenny rubbed his mouth off on his sleeve, and a while a generous smear of chocolate came off, his face remained besmirched with chocolate smudges.  
"Here, let me-" Tweek plucked a napkin from the table and tried to wipe his mouth, but the chocolate stubbornly clung to his face. He dabbed the napkin with his tongue and continued to rub it vigorously until his cheeks were red and raw, and Kenny just stood there patiently, letting him obsess over getting his face clean and not seeming remotely bothered by any of it.

Tweek was frowning thoughtfully at his face by the time he was satisfied with it, and he balled up the used napkin in both hands.  
"Thanks," Kenny said. "It was really delicious, by the way."  
"I'll tell Mom you said so." Tweek's continued to frown as he studied his face, and then he licked his thumb and gently rubbed the corner of Kenny's mouth. "Missed a spot," he explained.

Before Tweek could react or withdraw his hand, Kenny grabbed him by the wrist, and brought his chocolate covered thumb to his lips, where his tongue teasingly poked through to lick off the milk chocolate smear. When Tweek didn't outwardly respond to the tantalizing promise, he slipped the whole thumb in between his lips, and he suckled gently.  
Finally, a coy smirk crept over Tweek's face. He said, matter-of-factly, "You're getting more obvious."  
"Am I?" Kenny released his thumb, flicking his tongue over the tip suggestively. "I guess I'm losing my touch."  
Tweek finally forcibly took his thumb from him, and he allowed Kenny to pout for a moment before he wrapped both arms around his neck, leaning up to chastely peck his lips. "Or I've just spoiled you and made it too easy," he replied.  
"I thought you might like _licking_ all the chocolate off of my face," Kenny explained, and then he rolled his eyes. "But somehow you decided that wiping _off_ my face was more appropriate."  
"I don't really like chocolate."  
"Fuckin' weirdo, I swear." Kenny pulled his head closer and reached down to kiss him, this time ensuring he got a mouthful of tongue in the process, and when they broke apart again they both quietly gasped for air, Kenny smirked deviously, and even his teeth were still smeared with chocolate. "I guess you aren't gonna like kissing me tonight then," he lamented.  
"I always like kissing you," said Tweek, and to prove it he pulled him down to kiss him passionately. Blindly they stumbled backwards until Tweek's back hit the edge of the final table, the only one that had not yet had its chairs put away, and Tweek allowed Kenny to push him onto it.

Kenny was breathing loudly into his ear and pushing him further onto the table. His legs on either side of him, Kenny was grinding into Tweek with shameless abandon, and with his arms pinned down, Tweek could do nothing but weakly struggle back.  
He felt a breathy laugh breeze by his ear, and then Kenny muttered, "You smell like coffee."  
Tweek, who'd been expecting something a little more romantic or at the very least something a little dirty, scoffed disbelievingly, "You think?"

Kenny just laughed heartily and took a step back, far enough that Tweek's legs were free. It was only for a moment though; he raised his arms high above his head with one hand and then pushed his body with the other, flipping Tweek clean over onto his stomach. He rubbed suggestively against his rear, and then his hand began wandering.  
"What did you want me to say?" As he contemplated, he untucked the polo shirt from Tweek's slacks, and he trailed down his chest with his fingertips. "Oh, Tweek, your uniform is so sexy," Kenny teased.  
"Shut up; it's what my dad wants me to wear."  
"Those coffee stains really compliment your eyes, especially in this lighting."  
"Motherfucker," Tweek swore. Then, reaching blindly around the giant glass window, Tweek eventually found a drawstring, and he yanked it hard. Flimsy blinds flew over the window, hiding them from the main street. "Try something a little dirtier," he suggested flirtatiously.

"Okay, how about this." Kenny lowered his voice again, purring huskily into his ear while his hand trailed lower, lazily stroking his inner thigh. "Have you been waiting for me all day?"  
"Fuck yeah," Tweek breathed. He bucked up against Kenny's groin, but he was taking it slow. His hand was slowly massaging his thigh, and his warm breath trailed over his neck.

"I've got another good one," Kenny promised. He finally let go of his wrists, but all Tweek did was grab onto the edge of the table. "You're such a dirty boy, Tweek." He shuddered and laid his forehead on his forearm, closing his eyes and letting the words and the hands molest him. "Daddy leaves you in charge of the coffee shop all day and you use it to hook up with boys so they can fuck you-" Kenny suddenly, violently jerked his hips into him, and Tweek gasped in surprise. Kenny continued, "-right over the tables in the lobby."  
"I don't hook up with boys," Tweek said breathlessly. This was true enough; he didn't hook up with boys, plural; just Kenny.  
"You hook up," Kenny amended, offhand; the specifics were obviously not important. "Do your customers know how much I've made you cum all over these tables?" As he said the word "cum," his hands roughly grabbed the bulge protruding from Tweek's slacks, and he rubbed firmly until a throaty groan poured out of Tweek's mouth. "Well?" Kenny asked, his tone suddenly normal. "Is that better?"  
"Oh yeah," Tweek chortled. "That was definitely a good one." With one hand, Tweek was haphazardly undoing his belt, his breathing uneven. "Keep talking," he said.  
"Alright."

Kenny helped undo the stubborn belt for Tweek, but he stopped his hand from slipping inside the pants. Kenny used his own hand for that.  
"Let's see," he pondered aloud, and his fingers teasingly rubbed up and down Tweek's aching hard-on. Kenny felt him twitch underneath him, convulsively jerking backwards and shortly grinding against him, and he smirked into the back of his neck. "I love fucking you out in such a public place like this," he murmured, and he felt Tweek's whole body twitch again, especially at the expletive. "I want someone to walk in on us one day; some unsuspecting guy walking down the street decides he wants a coffee-" with his free hand he took a fistful of Tweek's unruly blond hair, gently pulling his face out of his arms. It wasn't hard, it wasn't rough, but Tweek gasped again and silently moaned at the ceiling. "-and this poor shmuck walks in and sees me fucking you over the counter while you scream and scream."  
Tweek groaned and murmured agreeably, but he said nothing in response. He was keenly waiting for Kenny's hand to do more than lazily stroke him, but Kenny just leaned over him, his soft lips trailing along the soft underside of his neck.  
"Or maybe your dad will walk in one day. You know, he'll just pop in to make sure his son is running his coffee shop right." The languid movements of his hand were doing nothing for Tweek; he tried jerking his hips to achieve some kind of stimulation, but Kenny was uncompromising. "I gotta say, Tweek, you're doing a bang-up job running this place. I'm definitely hooked."

Kenny's hand suddenly disappeared, but before Tweek could complain, the hand gripping his hair released him, and it switched to working at his pants. One handed, Kenny awkwardly pulled and yanked until the black slacks dropped to his knees, and then the briefs followed shortly afterward. Then the hand was slipping between his legs again, slick and dripping with saliva, and it gripped his cock tightly and squeezed. "What would he say?" Kenny wondered, and his fist slid down the whole length of his cock. Then, without warning, he bit Tweek's neck, hard.  
Involuntarily, Tweek gasped, "Fuck!" and he tried to squirm away from him, banging a fist on the table and mule-kicking fruitlessly, his legs nearly immobile with the way his slacks were bunched up at his knees. "_Ow_, Jesus Christ man; that hurt!"  
Kenny withdrew his teeth but he continued to suckle the skin, hard, determined to leave a nice bruise. When he left the spot, tenderized and red, he breathed warmly over it for a few seconds before slipping higher, just below his ear, and he sank his teeth into his neck again.

Tweek had been reduced to choked whimpers by the time the assault on his neck let up, and even then it was only so Kenny could generously drool all over his palm again. The slick, wet sounds his hand made as it steadily jerked him were almost more unbearable than Kenny's dirty talk, and Tweek buried his face into his arms, his face flushed pink and his mouth parted in a silent 'O'.  
"What would he say," Kenny continued, right where he left off, as though nothing had happened. "If I told him..." Kenny's tongue was teasing the tenderized red splotches on his neck, softly stroking and tracing the teeth marks that were sure to bruise within the hour, and Tweek was shuddering underneath him and hanging on his every word, expectant for the next filthy hot thing he was going to say.  
Instead, Kenny said, "If I told him his son even TASTED like coffee?"

His legs trapped by his own pants, his cock trapped by a firm grasp, and the rest of him pretty much entirely at Kenny's mercy, Tweek couldn't do much more than prop his chin up and sigh, exasperated.  
Kenny was laughing and kissing his neck apologetically, but he never once removed his hand; it continued to stroke, up and down, at a teasingly slow pace. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."  
"Trust me, I'm not surprised." Tweek loved serious dirty talk, and Kenny liked playing along, but at the end of the day, everything was a joke. It was, as Tweek explained, the reason they couldn't date.

"I can stop if you want," Kenny said, his lazy stroking fist showing no signs of stopping.  
"No way, man. You've got to see this through to the end."  
"Ugh, commitment. You're killing me." Committing didn't seem to be that big of a problem for Kenny; he was starting to grind against Tweek's bare ass, but his jeans were getting in the way. "So since I complied with your demands, maybe you could clue me in on what it is you want from me."  
"Fuck me," Tweek said immediately, without pause or contemplation, and Kenny's breath hitched. His free hand began working at his jeans. "I want you to pound the shit out of me."  
"Oh yeah?" Kenny's voice had gone low and throaty again. He was trying to lube up his fingers with as much saliva as he could. His other hand had to leave Tweek's cock to spread open his ass, and Tweek groaned as he was left abandoned, but he didn't even try to reach down to ease the tension himself.  
"Yeah," Tweek breathed back. One wet finger was teasing him, not quite making the commitment. "I want you to stuff your cock in me and pound me until I cum."  
The finger hesitantly poked its way inside, and Tweek jerked back against it. The first finger or two usually hurt; tonight, he was hungry for it.  
"I'll stuff you and pound you until you scream first," Kenny promised. "THEN you can cum."  
"Hurry," Tweek whined. He buried his face in his arms again, and he groaned as Kenny obliged and hastily stretched his hole, too fast to be thorough and too rough to be pleasurable, and he didn't complain a bit.

Kenny hadn't even bothered to pull his jeans off all the way; he just undid the zipper and pulled his dick through the opening. He kept spitting in his palm, trying to get it as wet as he could before going in.  
Kenny said crossly, more to himself than Tweek, "I need to start bringing lube."

Into his arm, Tweek mumbled back, "Yeah you do."  
They both chuckled and Kenny bent down to nibble Tweek's earlobe, and then he trailed nipping kissing all down his neck. His hand was back at work, masterfully stroking Tweek's cock until he was clumsily fucking Kenny's fist.  
Despite himself, he started pleading. "Put it in, Jesus Christ man, put it in, I don't want to wait, my dad's gonna wonder what's taking me so long-"  
"Tell him you were busy taking it in the ass from a handsome stranger," Kenny quipped at this last part.  
"The fucking stranger has yet to give my ass anything." Tweek was propping his torso up with one arm while the other reached back, spreading his ass apart and wriggling enticingly until he felt the fat, wet head wedge itself between his cheeks, and then pause. "Give it to me," he demanded.  
"You're needy," Kenny observed.  
"Fuck yeah, I'm needy; put it in."

They were both immediately regretting not thoroughly stretching him out; it was damn near impossible just to break through the tightly puckered hole, and even when the tip finally pierced it, it was equally as impossible getting any further than the head. Worse, when Kenny tried to readjust, his dick slid out, and then he had to suffer the task of getting inside again.  
"Jesus fuck, you're tight," Kenny growled impatiently as he spit into his hand again, trying to get himself as slick as possible.  
"Just try again," Tweek urged him.

The second time went a little more smoothly; he went just slow enough to break gently through the muscle and then manage to situate himself, and then he plunged in as far as he could, until the rough denim of his jeans was rubbing Tweek's bare ass and he groaned appreciatively.  
"Ah, _fuck_, yes," Tweek sighed shakily, and he braced himself against the table. Almost subconsciously, he clenched and unclenched around him, trying to adjust as fast as possible. "Aah, Christ, man, it feels fucking huge..."  
"You wouldn't let me stretch you," Kenny said in his defense. Then, on second thought, he switched tactics. He leaned in close, his lips an inch away from his ear, and he breathed, "Is it good?" Before he could reply, he slowly pulled out as far as he dared to risk it without slipping out again, and then he thrust right back in, grinding against him when he couldn't get any deeper. Tweek released a loud moan in response, and Kenny whispered, "What was that? Didn't understand you. I asked you if my cock felt good."  
"Oh yeah," Tweek whimpered. He was drooling on the table and his eyes were shut tight, his face bright red; whether or not it felt good, it probably also hurt, too.  
"Fucking say it, then." Kenny delivered a swift smack that made direct contact with his left butt cheek, and Tweek yelped in response:  
"Your cock feels good!"

"Yeah? And what do you want my cock to do?" He rammed him so hard that Tweek's whole body suddenly jerked up, and he twitched once or twice afterward for good measure. When he didn't reply, Kenny repeated, "What do you want my cock to do?"  
"_Ngh_, fuck me, I want you to fuck me." He was shamelessly moaning now; his dick was throbbing and dripping between his legs, which were trembling even with most of his weight resting on top of the table.

Kenny was holding onto his hips to steady them both; Tweek was quivering nonstop and occasionally twitching violently, and Kenny was still for a moment, wondering if perhaps he wasn't actually hurting Tweek.  
Tweek mistook his concern for hesitancy, and bracing himself against the table again, he pounded onto Kenny's cock with a guttural moan, and then he did it again. He tried to spread his legs, but the slacks, still bunched around his knees, kept his legs practically immobile.

Kenny pushed him back onto the table and assumed a smooth pace, going easy, not pushing too far in or pulling too far out and taking it nice and slow. But by now Tweek was way too impatient for that.  
"You promised to pound me until I screamed," he panted as he turned his head to catch Kenny's eye. "So make me scream."

Kenny slammed into him so hard the table shifted a few inches, screeching across the floor, and Tweek shouted along with it. Kenny gave him no reprieve; he steadied himself on Tweek's shoulder and pounded into him again, and Tweek swore at the top of his lungs. Kenny was gyrating his hips, grinding against him, and then he did it again, and Tweek simply mewled in delight.  
"Don't stop," he pleaded, grabbing onto the edge of the table and bracing himself. "Don't stop, _fuck_," he grunted as Kenny slammed him again, and then again. "Don't-fucking-stop-go-_faster_." With every word he had to stop to grunt or groan his pleasure as Kenny pounded him, and then finally he couldn't talk anymore; Kenny was bending over him, thrusting with utter abandon into him while his hands held his hips and pulled him into every hard thrust.  
Tweek was pushing into it and slamming back to meet him as though he couldn't get enough of it. At first he muffled himself by biting his own hand viciously, but he quickly gave that up and resorted at first to moaning, and then, as Kenny had promised, to screaming.

Kenny was biting his shoulders and his neck and anywhere he could sink his teeth into, because he couldn't stop groaning himself. He was trying so hard to hold back; he wanted to cum already and Tweek was still insatiable.  
He slowed down to catch his breath and try to sustain himself, and to mute Tweek's impatient cries he shoved his fingers in his mouth, muttering, "Get them wet, get them all slick so I can jack you off, you slut," and after that, Tweek was too happy to lick and choke on his fingers. Kenny said it again: "You filthy little slut," and he smacked his ass and massaged his cheeks until Tweek shuddered from head to toe. His mouth dropped open as a low, smooth moan crooned from his throat.

Fingers lubed up with slick saliva, Kenny took hold of Tweek's leaking hard-on and stroked it roughly, at first in time with his slow, uneven thrusts; it was hard to move now, he needed to lube up again, but there was no time for _that_; and then he just jerked him at a furiously fast pace. Soon, Tweek was as dangerously close as Kenny was, and he was eagerly fucking Kenny's fist to make up for the agonizingly slow way his cock was teasing him his insides.  
Tweek was babbling unrestrained into his arms, and he was steadily whimpering louder and louder, "Gonna cum, gonna cum, oh shit, man; _gah_, ah..." He was trembling all over, twitching more and more frequently.

Kenny wasn't even moving anymore; he just allowed Tweek to fuck himself onto his dick and into his hand, panting loudly as Tweek's tight muscles clenched and squeezed him and Tweek's needy cries assaulted his ears until he couldn't take it anymore. He suddenly groaned and his hips jerked forward in short, rapid thrusts, and he held Tweek's bucking hips still as he came hard, still buried inside him, throaty groans humming in his throat.

Tweek continued to lay sprawled out on the table, panting and mewling and trying to buck against Kenny or against SOMETHING to finish himself, but then his cock slipped out, and he couldn't help but release a curt grunt of disappointment.  
But then Kenny's hand found him again, slick and wet, and it lazily circled the head with its palm until Tweek shuddered.  
"I didn't forget you," he promised huskily. His hand twisted around his cock and then twisted back down again, gently squeezing it the whole time, and then it squeezed harder. Kenny began to talk, urgently, and his words fucked Tweek in place of him. "I wouldn't forget the wet slut bending over this table leaking my cum all over the floor. You look like you want to get fucked again, don't you slut? You're so needy for it." He felt Kenny's fingers slip inside and curl, rubbing firmly, and it instantly went straight to his dick. Moaning his approval he tried to thrust onto his fingers, but they just slowly, firmly pleasured him. "Yeah, you're all nice and slick and used now and you like it when I fuck you with my fingers, don't you? Can you feel my cum dripping down your legs? It's hot isn't it?" The fingers were applying more slow, firm pressure and Tweek's legs buckled beneath him, but Kenny simply helped him right back up, never stopping his steady ministrations.

All at once the pressure mounted and his nerves tingled and felt impossibly tight, and Kenny's low whispers drifted in and out of his ear, urging him: "Cum for me baby, fucking squirt all over daddy's floor like a good little slut; do it, cum, _cum."  
_Tweek twitched violently as the curled fingers in his ass and the slick hand wrapped around his cock both coerced him to completion, and he choked out a breathless scream, doing exactly as Kenny had asked and practically gushing cum all over the freshly mopped floor. His whole body quivered with numb spasms with each mind-blowing squirt, and he couldn't even moan anymore; just hyperventilate in quickening gasps as he tried to curl up on the table. His legs would have given out again a long time ago if Kenny weren't still mercifully holding him up, waiting patiently for him to recover before he left him to his own devices again.  
"_Holy shit,_" Tweek blurted loudly, still not entirely returned to Earth. "How the fuck did you do that?" Kenny just laughed good-naturedly and pat his shoulder reassuringly.  
"A good tradesman has many tricks," he said slyly.  
"_Fuck_," he exclaimed, and then he settled his head back down on the table with another violent twitch.

A few more minutes passed before Tweek pushed himself off of the table. Once he got his bearings again, he started cleaning himself up. He straightened out his polo and used a napkin from a table to dab away at the cum that had dribbled down his legs and onto his pants. It was a futile effort; he would have to try and be sneaky about getting to his room to change when he got home.

Kenny was already done cleaning up and making himself presentable by the time Tweek started pulling up his pants. Then, Kenny collapsed into one of the remaining comfy cafe chairs and unrolled his paper bag, pulling out one of the gingersnaps and wolfing it down hungrily.

He had already finished both cookies by the time Tweek also collapsed into a chair. He yawned sleepily, totally drained, and said dispiritedly, "And I have to come in again tomorrow."  
"Will you be working with your dad?" Kenny asked. He was licking crumbs off of his fingertips, and this time Tweek didn't even notice, nor did he care, if any of them wound up on the floor.  
"No, it's just me and Annie again," Tweek replied.  
"Mhmm, so, will Annie be going home again early tomorrow?"  
"I'm not sure," Tweek said seriously. He rest his chin in his palm and seemed very deep in thought for a moment. As though making a grave prediction, he said, "We might be really busy tomorrow. Everyone comes to the coffee shop on Saturday night."  
Kenny just grinned and made a show of sighing and rolling his eyes. "Oh well," he said wistfully, and he leaned back in the chair. "I thought maybe tomorrow we could incorporate something fun, like, whipped cream and chocolate syrup and call it a Tweekacino, but I guess that's just going to have to remain an unfulfilled fantasy..."  
"Great, you want to make a mess everywhere and make me get home even later than usual." Tweek bent forward, hands outstretched, and Kenny did the same, only his hands wandered, rubbing and squeezing his thigh. "So, just after eight tomorrow?"  
"Duh," Kenny agreed, dismissively. "So about Tweekacino..."

Tweek suddenly scoffed and, ignoring the prompt, he licked his thumb and gently rubbed the corner of Kenny's mouth, where gingersnap crumbs clung stubbornly to his lips.  
"You missed a spot," Kenny informed him when he had finished, and Tweek frowned, looking over his face.  
"Where?" he asked.  
"Here."  
Then, he leaned even further forward, and kissed him, and Tweek greedily kissed him back.


End file.
